


Try a Little Tenderness (That's All You Gotta Do)

by crossroadswrite



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fuckbuddies, Fuckbuddies To Lovers, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Pining, Pining Derek Hale, Pining Stiles Stilinski, heads up for derek's hale past sexual abuse issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“C’me here,” Stiles tugs on him, reaching behind him for the shampoo and pouring some of it in his palm and starting to scrub it through Derek’s hair and Derek is <em>confused</em>.</p>
<p>He doesn’t- why would Stiles- It doesn’t feel like sex. Stiles is doing this just for the sake of doing it. He’s gentling Derek, focusing on him like he only reserves for research and video games.</p>
<p>(Or: How Derek figured out Stiles liked <em>liked</em> him after a particularly scary encounter with a supernatural creature.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try a Little Tenderness (That's All You Gotta Do)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ang3lba3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/gifts).



> Title taken from Try a Little Tenderness by Otis Redding.
> 
> Read end notes for full disclosure on where exactly Derek's past sexual abuse issues come in.

Derek’s still shaking a little bit, fine tremors wracking down his muscles and leaving him feeling unbalanced, too close to the surface without ever breaking it.

They almost lost Isaac tonight.

Whatever the hell it was they were fighting had its claws in him, shoving deep under his breastbone and piercing his lungs not giving anyone the time to react.

Of a pack of werewolves the human is the one who kicks into action first, and of course it would’ve been Stiles the one to act in such a dangerous situation.

Reckless, scared, absolutely enraged Stiles who took Kira’s sword and shoved it so deep in the _thing’s_ chest the blood soaked Stiles through when the creature had fallen over on top of him, still screeching horribly.

An entire fight for defense between supernatural creatures boiled down to the righteous rage of one single human.

Thankfully, no one got seriously hurt.

Isaac’s at Deaton’s now.

Stiles is here. Using his hands to demandingly push him towards the bathroom and Derek- Derek doesn’t think he’ll be able to have sex tonight. Not after what he had to witness and if Stiles is being demanding like this he’s sure that Stiles wants.

He can’t think of anything else Stiles would want from him, can’t think of any reason why Stiles would want anything _more_ from him.

Their relationship is truthfully not the most _open_.

They fuck sometimes. And Derek knows Stiles isn’t seeing someone else (that no one has ever even touched him like that before) and that he isn’t seeing anyone either, although he lets Stiles assume, lets him make these little self-depreciating comments that Derek won’t correct because he’s safer like that.

Derek doesn’t _do_ casual, not usually, not if he doesn’t have _feelings_ and feelings are messy. Stiles apparently does casual even if he’s ever only done it with Derek.

He needs to keep a healthy distance between him Stiles. The people he usually gets involved with don’t have the happiest of endings and it never really ends well for him either.

“Derek, come on,” Stiles urges. Or maybe Derek thinks he is because that’s what he’s expecting when in reality his voice is more coaching than urging and he hasn’t even really put his hands on Derek yet.

It’s a little off-putting the way Stiles is handling him. But then again ever since Derek could smell Isaac’s blood and hear is wet gasps as he gurgled on his own blood as his body tried to heal up as fast as it could, since the vision of Stiles sprawled on the forest floor, a little uncharacteristically still and blood stained burned itself in the back of his eyelids he hasn’t been able to find his footing.

He still feels like he can’t breathe, not quite. It feels like every breath he takes in is just short of not enough.

Derek blinks a little dazedly, feeling an insistent tug just under his armpits. He looks down to see Stiles tugging his shirt.

“Derek, babe, help me out here, yeah,” Stiles says gently.

Derek obligingly raises his arm and lets Stiles take his shirt off, noting faintly that Stiles’ face and arms are clean of blood. Not his hair though, not his clothes. Those are still soaked through.

He doesn’t particularly want to do this. Sex isn’t- it’s just not something he feels like he could _do_ right now, but it is something that he’s found keeps Stiles is here for longer.

They’re not boyfriends. They’re not attached. Well. Stiles is not attached. Their relationship is built on fucking and hanging out and mutual life saving.

Stiles goes for his belt, undoing it with practiced ease and slipping it off, moving on to Derek’s zipper.

He grits his teeth, grinds them together and tries to let himself enjoy it. He normally likes Stiles’ hands on him. He could even say he adores it, so he grits his teeth and tries, wills himself to stop seeing blood and ash behind his eyelids.

“Sit for me,” Stiles tells him, gently pushing him down on the closed toilet lid and helping him off his shoes and socks.

Derek drops his hand to his thigh, lets his claws dig a little just to feel it.

“Hey, none of that. Come on, Derek.”

Stiles catches his hand, rubs his thumb across his knuckles soothingly until his claws recede.

“Up.” Stiles helps him up again, hooks both his thumbs in his underwear and pulls down, “Come on.”

Derek braces himself.

Stiles turns him and ushers him into the running shower. He hadn’t even known the shower had been running and he should be more worried that he’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice his surroundings.

Derek blinks water off his eyes, stares at Stiles as he kicks his shoes off and strips quickly and efficiently offering Derek his hand to help him into the tub.

Derek takes it, ignores how his own hand is shaking finely and helps him into the tub.

“C’me here,” Stiles tugs on him, reaching behind him for the shampoo and pouring some of it in his palm and starting to scrub it through Derek’s hair and Derek is _confused._

He doesn’t- why would Stiles- It doesn’t feel like sex. Stiles is doing _this_ just for the sake of doing it. He’s gentling Derek, focusing on him like he only reserves for research and video games.

“Should I use shampoo on your stubble too? Is there any kind of beard grooming treatment I should be worried about?”

“You still have blood on your hair,” Derek points out and suddenly he needs to fix it, he just needs to get all the blood off Stiles as soon as possible.

Stiles folds on himself, dropping his head on Derek’s shoulder and sighing loudly, “Oh, thank fuck,” he breathes out, “You didn’t say a word since I killed the damn thing, Der. Don’t scare me like that.”

He doesn’t quite understand why Stiles cares but he’ll take it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, gently pushing Stiles into the spray and tipping his head back while he reaches for the shampoo.

“You don’t need to do that,” Stiles mumbles even as he melts a little when Derek actually gets his hands on him.

“You still have blood in your hair.”

They go the rest of their shower like that, careful hands on each other, looking for reassurance and trying to wash off the stress and fear they were inflicted just barely an hour prior.

When they get out, Derek lets Stiles dry him off, returns the favor just for an excuse to keep touching in this gentle, innocent capacity.

Stiles is okay.

He hadn’t let that sink in yet, not fully. That Stiles is actually okay, not harmed in the slightest. That his pack by the end of the day came out on the other side and everyone is _okay_.

Derek isn’t used to things being good or turning out even a little bit okay for him. It’s nerve-wracking.

“That was stupid,” he tells Stiles, letting his hand slide to grip his hip.

“It was. Incredibly stupid. It worked, though. Stupid seems to work for me.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“I can’t promise-“

“Please.”

Stiles breathes out, shuffles a little closer to him, “I’ll _try_ not to. You have to try not to die, then.”

“Okay,” Derek nods.

It seems fair promising impossible things to each other.

They stay there for a minute, looking at each other in Derek’s too bright bathroom light and just breathing, assuring each other.

“Stay,” Derek says, doesn’t make it a question, because if he does he’ll need an answer. If he does make it a question instead of a single word just breathed out almost too quietly he’ll give everything away.

“Okay.” Stiles says like it’s that easy, like it’s always been that easy and all that Derek had to do really was ask and the answer would be the same.

Things aren’t supposed to be easy. He can attest that for the huge scare he got, he can attest that by the steady stream of supernatural creatures always focusing on Beacon Hills.

Stiles leads him to the bedroom and gets the both more or less dressed and it’s easy.

He lays down on Derek’s always too big bed and pulls him on top of him, tucks himself neatly under Derek’s chin like he’s not taller, and it’s easy.

So incredibly, painfully easy.

“I killed something today,” Stiles mumbles, hugs Derek against his chest, and it’s always going to stun Derek that someone who can’t hold still enjoys to be held down and tucked in.

“I’m sorry you had to.”

“I don’t feel bad about it.”

Derek never thought he would have. Stiles has the kind of rightful justice that’s complicated in its simpleness. Hurt one of his and he’ll hurt you.

“Okay.”

Stiles breathes out and relaxes a little. Derek does the same, taking a little of his weight in his arms so he doesn’t smother Stiles.

It feels nice. Maybe Derek is starting to get why Stiles doesn’t date other people, doesn’t ever really seem interest in even doing it.

“Erica told me you’re not seeing anyone else.”

Derek rolls them onto their sides in response and hugs Stiles to his chest, chooses not to answer.

“And you know I’m not either. So we should just- not see other people. Together. Possibly forever.”

Derek rubs his cheek over the top of Stiles’ head.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Stiles returns, pressing a smile against his chest.

Yeah, he thinks he’s starting to faintly grasp why Stiles _cares_ and he highly suspects it’s the same reason why he does too.

**Author's Note:**

> Derek Hale's past sexual abuse issues: Derek doesn't want to have sex with Stiles but feels like he needs to to keep him there since people have always wanted him only for sex. Stiles doesn't have any intention of having sex with Derek in the particular mental state they're both in and no sexual contact of any kind is iniated by neither party.


End file.
